Changing Places
by anna-garny
Summary: Remy Hadley wakes up in an unfamiliar room, next to a girl with dark hair. Just another one-night-stand... until she looks in the mirror and sees the wrong reflection staring back.
1. Chapter 1

Remy rubbed her eyes, squinting into the middle distance and trying to ignore the headache building behind her eyes.

How much had she been drinking the night before?

Had she even _been_ drinking the night before?

Her memory was fuzzy, to say the least.

She shifted slightly, noticing that the pain in her head wasn't the only ache that her body was demanding she pay attention to. Her right leg sent a searing pain from mid-thigh to her hip as she went to move it.

Without conscious thought she grabbed the site the pain was originating from with both hands, pressing down and running her hands along both sides of her leg.

What the hell?

She looked down and her head seemed to spin- those weren't her hands. Was she hallucinating?

She lifted her right hand, turning it over and examining the calluses on the palm and the fact that it was a hell of a lot hairier than she remembered it being the night before.

These were _not_ unidentified drinking injuries... these were long-term abuses of her body that hadn't been present the night before.

Definitely hallucinating... she had to stop taking ecstasy.

She examined her surroundings again and realised she was in an unfamiliar bedroom, and there was another person in the bed next to her, female from the shape- so nothing unusual there. The girl had long dark hair and Remy couldn't see her face, so she came to the conclusion that she was in the bed of a one-night-stand, and it would probably be best to get out of the girls' bedroom before she woke up and, heaven forbid, wanted to talk.

She tried again to get out of the bed, thinking that the best place to let the e-induced hallucinations wear off would be in her own bed, but as she stood up her right leg buckled beneath her, sending another jolt of white-hot pain from knee to hip and making her cry out.

Great, auditory as well as visual hallucinations, her voice was a hell of a lot hoarser than she'd ever heard it, even after the four-day Spring Break binge in Cancun.

Deciding that she must have hurt herself at some point while drinking the night before, Remy decided that obeying her bladder was paramount, even more important than escaping the mystery girls' bedroom. She glanced around from her position on the floor and spotted a shower through a door on the other side of the bed.

Pulling herself to her feet, Remy limped her way to the bathroom and pushed open the door, glancing up at her reflection above the sink.

Yep.

Definitely never taking ecstasy again.

She passed out on the tiles after spending a good fifteen seconds staring at the reflection of Gregory House that was gazing wide-eyed back at her.

********

House rolled over and stretched his arms above his head, arching his back and reaching down to rub the scar on his right thigh.

He paused, his hand halfway down his flank, and realised that there was no pain.

Not in his leg, anyway.

His head was killing him, which really wasn't that unfamiliar. He knew he'd been drinking the night before- since he had been off the Vicodin he'd tried to reduce his alcohol intake, but the night before he had decided that his good friend Mr Jameson needed some company.

His memories were fuzzy from about halfway down the label onwards, but he knew that no matter how much whiskey he imbibed, every single morning, without fail, his leg would hurt more than his head. Any his hangover would barely make him wince, because that pain was like nothing after an evening of leaving his cane behind for trips to the bathroom while numbed by alcohol.

So why the hell didn't it hurt right now.

He pressed his fingers into his thigh and realised that something was missing.

His scar was gone.

And he was wearing... what the hell?

He looked down, and his eyes almost fell out of his head.

That was not his leg.

Those were not his black lace panties.

And those C-cups were _definitely_ not present the night before.

He whipped his head around and saw that he was in the loft, in his own room, but on the wrong side of his bed. Glancing down, he felt his head begin to spin again, and his vision blurred for a few seconds as he processed what he was witnessing.

There, sprawled on the floor in his bathroom, was... him.

His body, at least, in the same t-shirt he remembered pulling on the day before, the same blue chequered boxers that he had stolen from Wilson's laundry pile just after his shower.

He swung his legs out of bed, standing up and feeling a strange euphoria as he straightened his back and spread his weight evenly for the first time in years.

Bending down, he reached out a hand, noting with a strange detachment that the fingernails had recently been manicured.

His doctor instincts kicked in and he pressed the fingers to... his?... neck, feeling a pulse and flicking his other wrist into his field of vision and noting that he was wearing a silver watch with a purple face.

The body on the floor of the bathroom had a pulse, and it was steady.

He rocked back on his haunches and considered what was happening, staring at the face of the man who was collapsed in a heap in front of him.

If it really was, well, _him_, then something extremely screwy was going on.

He was staring at the face, his eyes unfocused, when the man's eyes fluttered open and caught his.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the other person beat him to it.

'Who the hell are you?' The man who had been passed out in the bathroom pulled himself back, scrambling against the tiles to get away from House and coming to a stop at the doorjamb.

'I could ask you the same-' House stopped mid-sentence at the sound of his own voice, stood up and turned slightly so that he could see the mirror.

The face staring back at him was young, smooth and wide-eyed. He bought a hand up to touch his cheek and breathed one word.

'Thirteen.'


	2. Chapter 2

Hi there to all my readers!

Wow, less than 12 hours and I've got half a dozen alerts and two reviews! I must be getting better at this!

Thank-you to everyone who has reviewed so far (I do try and reply to my reviews when I get time, so keep an eye out!)

Enjoy chapter 2.

_______

House swore, very loudly, for quite a few minutes.

Then he realised two things that were very important.

One. He was not himself. Clearly, he was Remy Hadley, his employee – or at least, he was currently inhabiting her body.

Two. That same body had woken up in _his_ bed, in nothing but lingerie, and was now swearing and stomping around the room within earshot of his roommate.

That second point made him shut up very quickly. If Wilson decided that the woman (well, Thirteen _was_ a woman...) shouting in House's bedroom was cause for concern, then he could well barge in... finding "House" in a pile on the floor, and "Thirteen" near naked and ranting.

Not a good picture to present to a roommate whose naturally suspicious nature would jump to a conclusion that would at very least end in physical violence, and at worst end with a call to Lisa Cuddy.

House sat down abruptly, crossing the long, slender legs beneath him and staring at his own face, narrowing his eyes slightly as he realised just how grey the hair was on his chin and how many deep lines there were around his eyes.

Remy stared at... herself. Her brain was struggling to process what was going on. The girl was now sitting cross-legged in front of her, muttering under her breath and running her hands up and down her legs, from knee to hip, in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic fashion.

'What- what's going on?' she asked, shocked once more at the sound of her voice, hoarse and deep and eerily familiar.

'I have no idea. But from what I can tell, we can't let anyone find out about... whatever this is.' The person who looked exactly like Remy Hadley gestured with her left hand, vaguely encompassing both of their bodies and the rooms they were in with that one movement.

'Are you... me?' Thirteen asked, unsure about what to think, how to react.

'No, I'm Foreman.' House responded, sarcasm practically dripping from his dry reply. 'Can't you tell it's me?'

'House?'

'Well you'd better hope so.'

'How do you know who I am?'

'You've got that wide-eyed look of disbelief you get every time I solve a case without seeing the patient. Plus, you're not ogling me, which means you're familiar enough with this body not to be impressed by it.'

Thirteen felt herself blushing as House looked down at his bra.

'I've got to say, Thirteen, you keep this thing in pretty good shape.'

'You've seen me at the gym, House. You know it's part of my Huntington's regime. But, wait- how the hell did this even happen? Is this really happening... or am I just hallucinating?'

'I'm pretty sure I'm not hallucinating... I'm off the Vicodin, remember? Besides, I've never hallucinated anything this awesome before.'

House reached up and went to unhook the bra but was stopped by a strong hand on his wrist.

'House! Leave them alone!'

'What? I can't have any fun just because I'm in someone else's body? Besides, this is all probably just a dream anyway... why can't I just take a peek-'

Thirteen cocked her head to one side, considering.

This couldn't be real. Either they had both taken some serious drugs and were tripping out of their minds right now, or this was some kind of messed up dream.

'How did you, did I, even get here? Is this your place? Is this the loft that you and Wilson outbid Cuddy on?'

'Yeah, this is my room. Wilson got the bathroom with the tub because he's the one who signed the loan forms. But I got the better view.'

'Always with the silver linings.'

'Got to find them somewhere, like right now for instance, in this hallucination- I have a theory.'

'You always have a theory.'

'That's because I'm a genius. My theory is that we need to find a third party and see if they recognise either of us. The best way to do that is for you to go and find Wilson. If he recognises you- that is, he recognises _me_, then this might not be a hallucination.'

Thirteen considered this.

'Can I pee first?' she asked, remembering why she was in the bathroom in the first place.

'Only if I can unhook this bra.'

Remy rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to her left knee, standing up and crossing the bathroom to the toilet, trying her best to ignore the pain in her right leg that made her reach out to the sink for support as she limped towards her goal.

She stood there for a moment, facing it, then realised that there was probably a simpler way to test the switched-bodies theory than involving a third party.

'You know, if I can pee standing up then that might break the psychosis.' she told the person who was now leaning against the doorjamb.

House looked up from his contemplation of the lacy edges of the bra he had yet to figure out how to remove and nodded.

'Think you can manage that?'

'Well, if I really am you, or at least, in your body, then it should be a piece of cake, shouldn't it?'

'You just want to see what I'm packing.'

Thirteen sighed and turned to face the bowl. Here goes nothing.

'The vertical tinkle proves nothing.' House pronounced as Thirteen re-buttoned the boxers and flushed the toilet, limping to the sink to wash her hands.

'It could prove that this is not just a hallucination.'

'I still say we need a third party. Go find Wilson.'

'And leave you alone with my body? I don't think so. Grab a shirt, you're coming with me.'

'You're right. I do want to see how badly Wilson reacts to the idea of me sleeping with Thirteen.'

House got up from where he had been sitting with his back to the doorjamb of the bathroom and grabbed the sky-blue shirt he had been wearing the day before sliding his arms into it and deftly doing up the three buttons in the middle.

Thirteen realised that there was a very good reason House was rarely without his cane- her right leg was killing her. She grabbed the instrument from its' position leaned against the dresser and rested some of her weight on it, sighing in relief before glancing at what her body was wearing.

'Can you at least put some pants on?'

'Why? I never understood why you don't wear skirts. I mean, I get the whole bisexual thing, but these pins deserve to get some air every now and then!'

'Fine. Then you're staying in your boxers. Where's Wilson likely to be at this hour?'

House again glanced at the silver watch. 'It's six fifteen. He'll be eating breakfast in front of the TV.'

'Do you think he's heard us?'

'If he had then he'd have barged in to save the poor girl who was shouting before- he was probably in the shower while I ranted. Go find him.'

Thirteen put one hand on the doorknob and went to turn it, pausing only for the briefest moment. If she spoke to Wilson, and he saw that she was House, then either this was a deeply disturbing psychotic episode, or something truly freaky was going on, and she was going to have to stick with House in order to figure it out.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

********

'Good morning, Sunshine. You're up early.' Wilson looked up from his position eating cereal on the couch to see his roommate limping out of his room.

Oh dear god. This is real. This is really happening. I have actually switched bodies with my boss and he is now... Thirteen glanced over her shoulder to where House, in her body, was standing just inside his bedroom door- egging her on.

'Morning, Wilson.'

'What's the occasion? I'd have thought after such a late night I'd be lucky to see you before lunch.'

'Speaking of that, what time did I get home last night?'

'Well, I left the bar at eleven, but you came home much later. I didn't actually hear you come in.'

Thirteen considered this for a moment before deciding that it was a good thing.

'Good. Then I'm going back to bed. See you at work!'

She pivoted on the cane and took a couple of steps towards the bedroom.

'I did hear you two talking just now, though. Who is she?'

Thirteen whipped around to find James grinning at her, smug.

'I- nobody. I'm going back to bed.'

'Just make sure you give her a good tip for putting up with you all night.' Wilson called out, the barest hint of laughter in his voice. He didn't actually think House had a hooker in his room- for a start, House's wallet was on the hall table and there was still cash visible sticking out of the side of it. And, for second, not many hookers had such nice handbags- or trusted people enough to let them out of their sight. The bag that was on the hall table next to House's wallet was a large black leather tote with silver fastenings, and a distinctive red pattern on the side pockets.

Wilson thought it seemed familiar, but dismissed it. It was probably a popular choice because some celebrity had worn one to an awards show. Instead of dwelling on the mystery of a familiar handbag, he chuckled to himself at the thought that House, of all people, had bought a girl home and wasn't paying for it.

Wilson had been unsure the night before when House had downed half a bottle of Jameson and announced that he was going bar-hopping to meet women, but had accompanied him until his body had objected. He'd left House at the bar closest to the condo, and left instructions with the bartender about what to do with him if he turned nasty.

But it seemed that House had been anything but nasty- if the handbag was anything to go by, then the girl in his room was perfectly decent and trusting.

It was enough to make a person feel almost warm and fuzzy.

********

Thirteen returned to the bedroom.

'You went out last night. To a bar. With Wilson.'

'Were you out at a bar last night?' House had settled himself on the bed and was examining Thirteen's body, running his tongue over the unfamiliar teeth and stretching muscles that, in his own arms and legs, had long since become too stiff and sore to be as flexible as those belonging to a much younger person.

'Honestly, I can't remember much after leaving the hospital.'

'Really?'

'Give me a second. Shove over, I need to think.'

Thirteen flopped down on the bed, stretching her arms above her head and trying to piece together the series of events that would join together leaving the hospital and waking up in the wrong body and the wrong bed.

'I got in my truck at around six, and I was going to meet Chase for dinner...'

'You and Chase? Seriously?'

'He wanted to talk about Cameron, and apparently I'm the least threatening person to talk to about that.'

'The hot bisexual who he works with is the least threatening person to discuss his divorce with?'

'Apparently so. That, coupled with the fact that I have absolutely no interest in sleeping with him, does create a certain level of trust.'

House glanced over at the man stretched on his bed, his mind boggling at the idea that there was a young woman occupying that body.

'You know, we could have some fun with this.' he mused, stretching his right leg up and running his hands down the lithe limb, marvelling at the flexibility of the body that he was in.

'No, you will have fun. I get to experience the pain that makes you such a jerk.'

'Or... we could mess with people.'

'Except that if we tell anyone what's going on we'll both get committed. We have to keep this a secret.'

'Well, duh.' Remy's eyes narrowed at the expression that House's cynicism was contorting her face into.

'I didn't know I could move my eyebrows like that...' She tried to mirror the expression and winced, realising that her jaw felt tight.

'Do you grind your teeth in your sleep or something?' she asked, reaching up to rub her aching jaw, pulling her hand away in momentary shock as she felt the stubble on her chin. How easy it was to forget that she was in the wrong body, even when her own was sitting on the other side of the bed.

'Do you ever shave?' she asked, running her fingers from ear to chin, scratching at the coarse hair.

'Only when I'm hoping to get laid.'

'Why was I expecting a different answer?' she muttered to herself. She glanced up and caught sight of the alarm clock on House's bedside table, swearing softly under her breath, before pausing and looking up at House, grinning.

'You have to be at work in forty minutes.'

'What? Why? You're never in the conference room before half past eight.'

'Yeah, well, it's Thursday. I, or more accurately, _you_, have clinic duty from seven until eight thirty this morning.'

House groaned. Why did all of his employees have to be so dedicated? Why couldn't they be more like he was and shirk their responsibilities, opting to play video games instead of dealing with actual patients?


	4. Chapter 4

Thank-you to all of my lovely readers who have me on alert, and to those of you who have reviewed!

I do try and reply to all of my reviewers as much as possible, and bear in mind that any suggestions about where the story should go and what should happen are more than welcomed!!

Chapter 4.

'Oh hell no, you are _not_ showing up at the hospital in the same clothes I was wearing yesterday! And you have to shower!' Thirteen exclaimed as Greg went to pull on the skinny-leg jeans that had been in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed.

'Well unless you have extra clothes with you, or think that showing up in one of my shirts would get a better reception...'

'Dammit...' Thirteen had to admit that there was little she could argue on that point, until she remembered one very important thing.

'Where's my purse?'

'Purse?'

'You know, big, black, silver buckle on the side? Red pockets?' She lifted the edge of the quilt and searched the perimeter of the bed, scanned the rest of the room and came to the rapid conclusion that it wasn't in there with them.

'See you for lunch, House!' Wilson called from the entrance, and a few seconds later they both heard the front door slam shut.

'Go and check the hall- you might have dropped it there last night.' House told her. 'I'll go get this body showered.'

Thirteen's eyes widened at the slight amusement she detected in her boss' voice.

'Just treat it with some respect, okay?'

'Yeah, yeah...' House was again attempting to unfasten the bra he was wearing, ignoring Thirteen as she exited the room, lumbering in the direction of the front door.

A minute or so later she returned to the bedroom with a triumphant smirk on her face and the black purse hooked over her shoulder. House was still standing in the middle of the bedroom, struggling with the bra's clasp.

'Oh, for pete's sake.' Thirteen muttered, dropping the purse onto the bed and stepping over to help. Two deft movements later the bra was unhooked and House let a low whistle escape his lips.

'This is going to be so much fun... I think I'll go braless today...'

'You'll do nothing of the sort. Get in the shower and stop ogling my breasts or I'll kiss Wilson in the cafeteria.'

That made House pay attention. It was bad enough having the rest of the residents of the apartment building assume that the two of them were gay- if anyone at Princeton-Plainsboro got wind of any impropriety between himself and Wilson, well, he didn't like to think of how long it would take his reputation to recover from that...

'I'll be good.' He practically ran into the bathroom, tossing the bra back onto the bed, swiftly followed by the matching black panties.

'So what's your plan for the day, Dr Hadley?' he asked over the rushing water, marvelling at how good it felt to run his hands over smooth skin, and being pain-free for the first time in years was having an oddly euphoric effect on him- he was feeling mischievous and daring. He just hoped that he'd be able to convince Thirteen to have fun with this situation, too.

Thirteen opened the purse and dug through it, extracting a green v-neck sweater that had been rolled up in one corner, and as she unfurled it a pair of dark blue panties fell out.

'I knew there was a reason I always carried spares...' she muttered, before raising her voice to answer House.

'Well, for a start, I just found you a sweater to wear today, and some fresh panties. Where do you keep your underwear? I know that you personally don't object to wearing the same outfit for a week at a time, but I prefer fresh clothes at least once every twenty-four hours.'

'Top drawers. And don't you dare iron a shirt, or someone will figure out that something's up.' House called back from the shower. 'Don't you want to shower? Sometimes the hot water helps with the leg. You might want to take some ibuprofen, too.'

'Sounds good. Hurry up.'

Thirteen limped into the kitchen and dug through the fridge, finding orange juice and pouring herself a tall glass, popping a single ibuprofen tablet from a sheet that she found next to the sink and downing the entire thing in one mouthful.

Hearing the shower turn off she returned to the bedroom just in time to see House stepping out of the shower and moving towards the full-length mirror, ignoring the towel within reaching distance and instead examining the reflection through the fog.

'Get dressed, will you! Stop ogling!'

'Oh, don't act so surprised.' nonetheless, House wrapped himself in a towel and stepped past Thirteen, spotting the clothes on the bed.

'You know, if you want me to wear that thing, you'll have to help me get into it!' he said, pointing at the bra on top of the jeans and sweater.

'Just get dry, first.'

********

By the time they were dressed and ready to leave the condo it was ten to seven, and Thirteen was getting jumpy.

'We're going to be late! Hurry up, House!'

Her boss was taking his time, strapping up the black mid-calf boots and considering the height of the heels.

'You don't have anything less... precarious? I feel like I'm going to fall out of these things!'

'There's a pair of old All-Stars in my truck, you can change your shoes in the parking lot. Just hurry up!'

'Quit pacing like that, you'll hurt the leg and wind up complaining all day. Besides, if we walk in together, I'll just blame the lateness on you and Cuddy will yell at House, not Thirteen.'

'I should have just called in...'

'Allow me!' House reached for his phone and was halfway down the speed-dial menu before he realised the problem with his plan.

'You're going to have to do the talking- tell her that you called me to tell me you'd be late.' He held out the phone as Thirteen furrowed her brow, before she realised what he meant.

She took the phone and hit the 'dial' button, pressing it to her ear and preparing to make their excuses.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry about the delay in updating. Got married, went on a honeymoon and the husband (giggle. husband!) forbade me from accessing a computer while we were honeymooning! This is the first day we've had the internet up at the new house, so I thought I should put this chapter up!

Chapter Five.

They walked through the main entrance, House taking full advantage of the fact that he was in a much younger, more attractive (in his opinion) body, to make doe-eyes at more than half of the staff at the intake desk.

Thirteen rolled her eyes and used the cane (which she was quickly realising was a fantastic weapon) to rap him on the ankle.

'Pull your head in, will you?' she muttered.

'Spoilsport.' House rubbed his ankle, but stopped flirting with the nurse on the desk and strode towards the elevator.

'Don't forget to check your messages!' he trilled, jumping into the elevator and hitting the button to close the doors.

The nurse on the intake desk handed Thirteen a stack of pink slips which she began to flick through as she limped towards the elevators. She missed the look of complete shock and partial fear from the nurse who had handed her the slips- apparently a smile and nod of gratitude from Gregory House was enough to scare the hell out of the intake nurse.

House walked straight past the door to the conference room, forgetting who he was, and into his own office, booting up the PC and beginning to check his emails. He was on the third one down, having deleted the first two after barely glancing at the subject line, when Chase came in from the conference room, clutching a cup of coffee.

'Careful he doesn't catch you.' he muttered, taking a seat opposite 'Thirteen' and dropping a file onto the desk before taking a sip from his coffee.

House's head whipped up, and he was about to drop an acidic remark when he remembered who he was.

'He asked me to check his e-mails.'

Chase scoffed. 'He used to get Cameron to open his snail-mail, but she never got his e-mail password.'

'Maybe he likes me more than he liked her.'

That shut Chase up, he picked up his coffee and the file, gave 'Thirteen' a quizzical look and opened the door to the conference room just as 'House' came into the office.

'House' glanced at Chase as the conference rooms' door swung shut before switching her gaze to the leggy girl occupying her boss' desk chair.

'You forgot who you are, didn't you?'

'Shut up. Looks like he's got a case for you!'

'You better get in there and help with the differential, then.'

'Yeah, yeah.' House clicked off the email client and stood up, entering the conference room and smirking at Chase before taking a seat directly opposite him, looking up over his shoulder at Thirteen as she leaned heavily against the bookcase behind him and rubbed the top of her right thigh.

'We have a case.' Chase told 'House', who just nodded at him before catching 'Thirteen's' eye.

'Go ahead.' Thirteen decided that play-acting would have to do, thin as that cover might be. From her position standing near the whiteboard she could listen to the differential and keep an eye on how House interacted with the other men in the room while he was inhabiting a female body.

House grabbed the case file and flipped it open, glancing at the front page and reading aloud the pertinent information, a grin playing around his features as he spoke, directing a few well-selected words towards the man standing behind him, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to narrow his eyes at the man in the dirty denim jeans. He was truly enjoying this- messing with Foreman by pretending to flirt with 'House', he certainly had to use all of his self control not to laugh out loud when Taub's eyes narrowed as he fluttered his eyelashes at Thirteen.

Thirteen, glaring at the back of her own body's head, completely missed the looks exchanged by Foreman, Taub and Chase. The three of them were confused, to say the least, by the amount of attention their boss was giving the tall brunette, and by her apparent flippancy regarding what had previously been un-crossable boundaries.

That, and she kept giving him little glances- subtlety was not her strong suit.

'So what do you think, Dr House?' House asked, snapping Thirteen out of her daze. She stared for a few seconds before Chase jumped in.

'I think we should run an MRI, rule out any trauma.'  
'What about an LP- it could be an infection?' Taub suggested.  
'No fever, no rash. We should x-ray his skull, he works construction. Could have sustained a skull fracture and been misdiagnosed as a concussion.' Foreman put in.

The four of them stared at Thirteen, who had to think for a moment as to why they would look at her and not House, before she nodded at them.

'Chase and Foreman get the MRI done, Taub go see if you can hijack the portable x-ray. Thirteen, you stay here.'

The other three glanced at the two of them, and Taub was on the verge of saying something when Thirteen decided that if she was in Gregory House's body, she might as well play the part.

'We're going to sneak into Wilson's office and have sex on his desk, okay? Do your jobs and quit worrying about what we're up to.'

House had to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. It was hilarious to witness an acidic remark like that- especially when you got to widen your eyes and feign innocence at the motives behind it.

Once the other three were gone, House couldn't help himself.

'You know, we could do that.'  
'Do what?'  
'Sneak into Wilson's office and have sex on his desk. He never locks the balcony door.'

Thirteen struggled for a moment to maintain her composure. She was sorely tempted to call House on his bluff, but also knew him well enough to realise that it might not actually _be_ a bluff.

'Just go and help them with the tests.' Thirteen muttered, limping into House's office and settling herself on the recliner in the corner.

House started after her, pausing in the doorway between the conference room and his office.

'You expect me to _work?_'  
'Today, yes. You're me, remember? Or do you want Cuddy to get wind of the fact that Thirteen spent the day in House's office?'

House considered this for a moment. Would it be worth the hell-fire that the Dean of Medicine would likely rain down on his head if she thought that he was sleeping with one of his fellows?

'Fine. But you're due in the clinic in half an hour.'

Thirteen sighed as House left the room, rubbing her leg and beginning to appreciate just how much it sucked to have to drag the thing around, all the while not being able to hide the scowl she directed at her own body, practically skipping towards the elevators.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

**Thanks to all of my reviewers and people who have made me a favourite/added me to their story alert lists!**

**Read and enjoy- this next chapter is entirely from House's point of view. So, **_**so**_** sorry that it's taken so long!**

*House*

Waking up in an unfamiliar body was just the tip of the iceberg. When it turned out to belong to _her_, well that was just gravy. I was determined to enjoy this as long as it lasted and even if it all turned out to be an hallucination I was going to embrace the lack of pain for the duration.

It felt great to be walking without a limp for the first time in years the simple lack of pain had put me in such a good mood that I barely even objected when Thirteen (using her newfound authority in my personage) had sent me to actually help with testing and treating a patient.

I was halfway to the MRI room when I realised there was a big fat flaw in the plan. The only access codes that I knew were my own- and it would be more than suspicious if Thirteen suddenly started using Dr Gregory House's access codes.

I spun on the Converse All-Star that I'd swapped out from those ridiculous heels and went back into my office to find her sitting behind my desk logging in to her own e-mail account.

'You might want to re-think that, Remy.'

'Did you just call me _Remy?_' She asked me, raising an eyebrow. I examined her (my) face, realising just how rough around the edges I'd let myself become.

'Yes, yes I did. What are your access codes and where is your ID badge?'

'Oh, you'll need those. Where's my purse?'

'I left it in the truck.'

'So you'll have to go down to the parking lot and get it. My ID is in there, and my phone.'

'Why would I need your phone?' I asked, scooping up the car keys that she'd plopped onto the desk for me.

'Because my access code is saved as a text document in one of the apps- go on, I'll cover for you.'

'My ID is in that top drawer, not that I ever use it. Oh, and you're due for clinic duty in half an hour. Better make a move, House, or Cuddy will have your balls.'

Thirteen groaned, and I was somewhat surprised to realise that the sound was familiar.

'You mean I have to walk all the way down there?'

'And back up here in time for our afternoon differential. Go on, chirpy!'

Thirteen glared at me and I had to admire that my face was actually quite intimidating when the eyebrows were knitted together like that, but I pretended not to see it and sauntered out of my own office, making my way to the stairwell and relishing in descending the four levels to the underground car-park in less than two minutes.

I had been digging through the black and red purse for a good ten minutes when I realised that it was a futile exercise. The bag was massive and I was barely through the first pocket, so I swung it over my shoulder and locked the truck, making my way back up into the hospital and keeping my eyes peeled for...myself.

"House" was in the clinic. I'm pretty sure I saw Cuddy watching him from her office, eyes narrowed in suspicion at the fact that he was actually talking to patients without a thick layer of sarcasm.

'Dr House?' I called, and he ignored me. That much, at least, was in character.

I walked up to the man with the cane and caught him by the shoulder, spinning him around as he scribbled something down on the patient file he'd just set down on the nurse's station.

'What?' she snapped at me, slapping the file closed.

That response, at least, would allay any suspicions that Dr Cuddy may have had that Dr House was acting out of character, the scowl she was directing at me was one that had been known to send first-year interns scurrying.

'Can't find the stupid ID, this purse is impossible.'

'Oh, for goodness' sake.' she muttered, snatching the purse out of my hand and unzipping an inside pocket that I hadn't even seen. She extracted the ID tag and an iPhone, handing me both and dropping the bag at my feet.

'What do you want me to do with that?' I asked, jumping back before the heavy purse hit my foot and ruined my perfect gait for the rest of the day.  
'Put it in your office, if you need anything else just page me. Here.' She handed me the pager that had been in the pocket of the jeans I'd worn the day before.

'Oh, you'll need this. Cuddy's paged you twice already, and Wilson wants to know where you're going for lunch.'  
'Wilson? Oh no.' The last two words were a low groan.  
'Just put him off-'  
'What, tell him that I've got a hot date?'  
'Well if you really want to we can take lunch together.' I told her, unable to resist as I spotted Cuddy over Thirteen's shoulder. I leaned in and put a hand on her shoulder. 'We can sneak away for the afternoon if you like.'

The reaction she gave me was somewhat unexpected.

'Dr Cuddy's behind me, isn't she?'  
I turned my head and realised just how much grey there was in the beard I refused to trim. I considered lying but decided that the odd fragment of truth wouldn't hurt.

'Yes.' I murmured.  
'Just remember, you asked for it.'

Before I could move she had planted a firm kiss on my cheek, planted a hand on my backside and taken off towards an exam room.

I felt my jaw drop open as Cuddy's eyes widened in shock and she strode across the distance between us, her mouth set in a determined line.

Forgetting who I was, I pasted a half-smirk on my face and prepared a smart-alec response for the pasting I was no doubt about to receive, but she paused next to me with concern in her eyes.

'Dr Hadley, are you okay?' Her addressing me as Thirteen snapped me out of my 'House' mindset.  
'Never better, Dr Cuddy. Why?'  
'Did-didn't Dr House just-'  
'Part of a bet with Wilson, I think.'  
'Oh. Well, don't you have a patient?'  
'Yes, I better get back upstairs.' I sidestepped and made my way towards the stairwell.  
'Dr Hadley!' Cuddy called after me before I'd taken three steps.  
'Yes?' I turned slightly, not quite meeting her eyes.  
'Your purse- it would be better stored in the locker room than beside the nurse's station.'

I nodded, silent, and scooped the bag up before opening the door to the stairwell and taking the concrete two steps at a time towards the third floor.


	7. Chapter 7

I feel like a tool – I completely forgot about this story! But I do have another chapter, and am actively looking for a co-writer for this one, must get over to the House forums for that.

Love. –Anna.

Chapter 7.

**Thirteen's Perspective (don't forget, she's in House's body)**

I wasn't entirely certain why I'd done what I did, but a big part of it was wanting to get House into trouble. I knew that Cuddy would approach him (seeing him as me… damn it was hard to get my head around that one) and be sympathetic, before hunting me down for a severe tongue-lashing.

What I wasn't expecting was to finish two hours of clinic duty without being interrupted, before the pager I'd been given started to go mental.

"need you for diff. idiots not taking me seriously stupid boobs. come in. tell them I'm right and we can be home by four"

Gee whiz, I wonder who that could have been from?

I dropped the last patient file into the tray on the nurses' desk and made my way to the office, taking the elevator and wondering how long I was supposed to wait in between ibuprofen doses – the tablets I'd taken that morning had barely put a dent in the pain radiating from my thigh.

I found my team sitting at the conference table, the three boys staring at the girl like she'd grown a second head.

"We need to get him onto a steroid treatment, can't you see? It'll fix the breathing problem and give us access to see what's causing the rest of it. House! You agree with me, don't you?"

"Steroids would just make it worse! A broad spectrum antibiotic would work better." Foreman argued, looking from me to the girl with her mouth set in a hard line, hedging his bets on which of them 'House' would side with.

"Oh, and why don't we put some leeches on his neck at the same time, Foreman? Because they'd do about as much good as an antibiotic when the problem is clearly viral! House, back me up on this one!"

I wasn't really in the mood to argue with anyone, my leg was killing me and I'd been spit up on by a six-month-old whose mother thought it was a good idea to feed him cow's milk, in spite of a family history of lactose intolerance and the fact that he was, you know, six months old. I was beginning to understand why House avoided the clinic – the pain in my leg put me in a bad mood from the get-go, dealing with idiots who did idiot things and expected me to fix the results just made it worse.

"Shut up the pair of you and show me what you've got."

"Hey!" The girl objected, I just couldn't think of her as House, so instead I labeled her Hadley and decided to treat her like I'd seen Gregory House treat every other female doctor on staff... which was marginally better than he treated the nurses, but slightly worse than he treated his male fellows.

"Shut up, Hadley. You too, Foreman. Blondie. Tell me what we've got." I settled myself into the chair at the head of the table as Hadley took the seat right next to me and began scribbling away at a legal pad, while Chase began to go through the results of the most recent tests.

"Hadley's right, Foreman. It's viral."

"But-"

"Shut up." I cut him off, reveling in the authority even as Hadley smirked at her co-worker. "Start the steroid treatment, I'll be in my office."

I waited for them to leave, leaning back in the chair and closing my eyes as I rubbed a hand up and down the scar on my right leg, but a few seconds later I realized that I wasn't alone in the room – I could hear her breathing.

"What?" I asked, not bothering to open my eyes.

"You're a jerk."

"No, you're a jerk. I'm just acting like one so your reputation doesn't get tarnished by people thinking you're actually human under all the attitude."

"Cuddy sent Dr Hadley an e-mail with a link to the HR department's policy on sexual harassment." Hadley informed me after a thoughtful pause.  
That made me open my eyes. "She did?" I rolled my head to see Hadley standing next to me, hands on hips, trying (and failing) to look incensed.

"Like it's the first time you'll have had a sexual harassment claim made against you." I told her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Nurses don't count."

"Hang on, how did you get into my e-mail?" I asked, realizing that she shouldn't be able to get into Dr Remy Hadley's e-mail account; she was Dr House.

"I'm your boss, remember? Master password. That and Cuddy CC'd the entire department."

"So what's your panic? It was just a general reminder, not a comment on what happened. Maybe she's sending Chase a message."

"You **groped** me in the clinic. In front of her!"

"Oh, come on, like you wouldn't do the same thing on a dare!"

"Who the hell dared you?" Somehow, House being upset made me think there was something more to it, but I dismissed that possibility.

"Don't tell me that Wilson's never dared you to do something stupid?" I asked.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"He never told you about the lockdown? He dared me to flash Taub. I did it, too, in the lobby on my way out."

"You mean Taub saw these before I did? Aw, now that's just not fair." Hadley looked down at her chest and it was all I could do to prevent myself from smacking her upside the head. Instead I took a deep breath and asked the next question.

"How's the patient doing?"

"Like I said, it's a viral issue. Give the steroids four hours to treat the symptoms and he'll be fine."

"If that's the case then we're taking the rest of the day off to see if we can't solve the other problem."

"You call this a problem?" Hadley asked, reclining in a seat opposite me and stretching her arms above her head.

"Yes, I call the pain in my leg a problem, and you're turning into a pain in the ass, can you at least do a few buttons up on that sweater? I can see your bra."

"That was the point, duh." But Hadley still did up the next button.

"Well, I just e-mailed Cuddy that Thirteen has requested some time off, and seeing as you tend to just vanish whenever you want to, I figure we can go missing for a couple of days and nobody will really care." I told her, making her head snap up from contemplating her own cleavage.

"You should probably at least tell Wilson what's going on – he'll get suspicious about why Thirteen's in your condo instead of at her own place."

"You seriously think Wilson will believe a word of this?" I asked, hearing my voice crack as it tried to go up an incredulous octave and failed.

"I think he'd want to sit us both down for an intervention if he thought we were sleeping together."

"Intervention is preferable to getting committed." I told the dark-haired girl, and she nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Yeah, I don't really want to go back to Mayfield, even in this body."

"So we're heading back to your loft. Now."

"Fine, whatever. I should probably find your purse…"

"Don't tell me you left it in the clinic!"

"No, Cuddy told me to put it in the locker room."

"So go and get it, I'll meet you at the truck. As long as the patient doesn't die we'll be fine for a couple of days."


End file.
